


Reverie

by Iolite666



Series: Minifics [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Masturbation, fantasising, not much but this boy wants to be ruined, right at the very end, uhhhhhh, would sylvains slightly fucked up thoughts require a warning?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25991500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolite666/pseuds/Iolite666
Summary: Dimitri exists, and Sylvain obsesses.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Minifics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858063
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	Reverie

**Author's Note:**

> i woke up at 4am with hugely horny dimivain thoughts and just got around to putting them down in writing, enjoy!

Sylvain hadn't realised he'd been thinking of Dimitri like that until he was back in his tent, fucking himself full of his favourite toy that he might as well name Areadbhar for how much he wanted Dimitri to split him in two.

Dimitri had changed from the stalking, skulking animal that had replaced their best friend in their absence, and Sylvain doesn’t know whether he’s grateful for the change, or misses the uncontained raw energy that Dimitri had carried with him. It’s contained now, Sylvain deliriously thinks as he pumps himself full, so tightly contained that he wants Dimitri to take out all of the rage, the pain, the _everything_ broiling inside out on him. 

Sylvain sobs as he presses the toy _hard_ against his prostate and shifts his hips backwards; just how would it feel if he weren’t spearing himself on cold wood, but rather Dimitri? Warm, strong, beautiful Dimitri, who for all of his flaws, was inherently better than Sylvain was, overcoming instead of stewing and indulging. Unlike Dimitri, Sylvain is stuck on the past entirely; of better times, of times where he can imagine Dimitri drawing close and whispering in his ear, speaking to him and only him, not to their friends, not to Sylvain as an annoyance but to him as a person, one dear to the crown prince.

He’s well aware he’s pathetic; chest heaving as he lies back on his bedroll, barely able to restrain himself enough to make sure that none of his friends catch him like this. He didn’t have much shame when he was with others, but with himself? Indulgence didn’t suit him, he wasn’t _allowed_ , it had been drilled into him from birth. 

But _now_ , focusing on the present, Sylvain knows his thoughts of Dimitri have changed. Goddess, he wanted Dimitri to fucking _break_ him and the best worst part about it is that he _wouldn't_. Sweet Dimitri, so contrastingly kind and violent; Sylvain wanted to die by his hand, writhing on his cock and choking on air as he tried to comprehend the King crooning sweet nothings at him like he deserved to hear words of love.

He’s so _full_ , and it’s a dizzying thought that Dimitri could be the same size as his toy; he’s always enjoyed the masochistic burn when he pushed his toy into himself with not enough prep, the feel of himself opening up around something so blunt and forceful makes him muffle a scream into whatever he can at the time, and this time Sylvain is left biting into black and white fur and groaning at the scent invading his senses.

Dimitri had given him his fur mantle on this march, sadly noting that they didn't have enough blankets for everyone and he didn’t want anyone to suffer, and he said that he knew that Sylvain had a very specific temperature range he could deal with, not too hot or cold. 

_Well,_ Sylvain thinks, _joke’s on him, I’m way too hot right now and I’m loving it._ He’s sweating into the heavy fur, that he distantly notes has flecked bloodstains that had avoided getting cleaned out, and the thought makes his eyes roll back. The ease at which Dimitri could dispatch his enemies, how he faced the hellish horrors of the battlefield unflinching and strong, and then how gentle he became out of the fray, the contrast was too much.

Sylvain wanted Dimitri’s hand pressed against his throat as he choked him out; he’d gasp and try and escape but Dimitri wouldn’t _let_ him, and the thought has him picking the pace up, practically slamming the toy inside of him, and Sylvain knew he’d be regretting it tomorrow morning when he mounted up on his horse but right now he _didn’t care_. 

For a moment he thinks deliriously that if he manages to fuck himself so har dhe can’t ride in the morning that Dimitri would place him on teh saddle in front of him and he’d be surrounded by Dimitri, just like he is now, burrowing himself into his cloak that reeked of him and reeked of blood and the violent mixture has him squirming in overstimulation. Or maybe that’s from how he’s fucking himself back on his toy even as he works his arm hard, sore and straining, to bring himself to the edge. He could’ve cum earlier, as soon as he pressed the fake cock into himself and whined for his King to be fuicking into him instead, but he’d held off and it was so, so worth it.

His cock twitched wetly against his stomach and Sylvain can’t muster the energy to take his other hand down from where it’s shoving Dimitri’s cloak against his face and instead he writhes on his toy, feeling his tip drag wetly through the near puddle of pre that had pooled on his stomach, the wet, _filthy_ feeling making him feel as if he’s being watched.

And, oh, isn’t _that_ a thought. Putting a show on for Dimitri, for the King, laying back on his throne, surrounded by his cloak and knowing that the door to the throne room isn’t locked and that anyone could see him fucking himself silly and the King watching with a lustful, possessive gleam to his eye.

It's the idea of possession that does him in, and Sylvain chokes on a loud cry a moment too late as he bucks his hips as orgasm takes him over. He cries out Dimitri’s name as a searing wave of heat from head to toe rolls over him, focused in the pit of his stomach. His balls draw tight and his cock spills over his stomach in small arches of white as he clenches down around his toy, and it’s enough to bring a wrecked, overwrought whine out of his throat as the ache settles in immediately. His orgasm winds down, and his hips still jerkily thrust into thin air, as if through sheer willpower he could conjure up something tight and hot around him. Sylvain’s eyes roll as he thinks about burying himself inside dimitri with the toy still heavy in his ass, but this is enough lunacy for one night.

Another time, though, as he wipes his hand through the mess on his stomach and carefully pulls his toy out of his hole, the dark brown wood glistening with oil. A giddy thought comes to him and it makes him bark out a self-deprecating laugh. As if Dimitri would think of him in the throes of passion.

Just outside, Dimitri lingers, face aflame, mouth open in a disbelieving gape. His breeches strain to contain his erection, and with a decisive turn, Dimitri makes his way back to his tent, deciding that Sylvain can keep his cloak if it inspires such beauty from him. He would confront Sylvain tomorrow, but for now, he had his own problem to deal with. 


End file.
